Post by faux on Aug 28, 2010 3:09:54 GMT -5
Fogstripe of ThunderClan
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Name: Fogstripe
Age: 54 Moons, 4 Years and 6 Months
Gender: Male
Clan: Thunderclan
Rank: Warrior
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Reason For Name: His gray tabby coat resembles fog, and stripe for his tabby pattern.
Previous Names: Fogkit » Fogpaw » Fogstripe
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One Sentence Description: A gray tabby tom with pale green eyes.
Appearance:
His short, sleek coat is a mixture of grays, with spots of tan spotted throughout his undercoat. The fur lays flat along his back, and only thickens along the underside of his tail. His body is a sort of gradient. His back and shoulders are an almost solid gray, while dark gray tabby stripes run down his sides and stripe his legs. The rings thicken and darken down his tail, leaving an almost black tail tip. His thick paws are tan on the underside and between his toes.
Overall, he’s a very sturdy cat. That isn’t to say that he’s extremely muscular, he just isn’t quite skin and bones. His sturdy legs stand on thick paws, with hooked claws sheathed beneath them. A small bit of loose skin hangs before his rear legs, only a small sign of age. His ribs are barely visible beneath his fur.
His head is rather square with round cheeks. White whiskers flick out from his muzzle and above his eyes, and are pointed and uncomfortable at the tips. His eyes are a pale yellow-green, with dots of orange only at the far outer rims, and are barely noticeable. His ears aren’t very large, and the guard hairs don’t poke out very far. His small pink nose ties his features together.
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Personality:
Fogstripe is confident in himself, but not where he stands in the clan. He doesn’t expect more from anyone around him, but does feel like he’s expected to do more himself. He always tries to return with a little more food than he intended, or mark in that one extra spot. Sometimes it becomes rather stressful for him, since he feels like he owes a lot to the clan, and never feels like he does a good enough job. Since he’s been young, he’s never been the first to start a conversation. It can make him come off as snooty or rude, but he honestly doesn’t mean it. In fact, he’s got issues with being the first in anything. Being the first in a line, first on a hunting patrol, etc. It all boils down to leadership issues: he wasn’t meant to be a leader, and doesn’t desire to be.
He has the odd habit of suckling on things. Be it some grass bedding or another cat’s fur, he’ll wake up suckling on it and kneading his toes. It’s rather embarrassing. He’s fiercely territorial. It’s really the only time when he’d be able to make the first move. He doesn’t tolerate thievery of any kind, and would have issues stealing from other clans. The guilt would haunt him for weeks.
He enjoys the little things, like seeing a type of bird he’s never seen before, or finding a strange looking bug. Fogstripe enjoys learning random facts and share them; he feels like it interests everyone else as much as it does him, but it doesn’t. He accepts that he isn’t anything special. The background is where he feels the best, and when he’s put on the spot, he is taken rather aback. He’ll stumble over his words, or go completely blank. He’s a dork, and he can’t help it.
Despite his distaste of theft and the like, he understands that desperate times call for desperate measures. In the end, Thunderclan is what he needs to ensure the survival of. Given plentiful times, though, he would more likely rebel than do harm where it isn’t needed.
Likes: A full belly, warmth, unexpected surprises, the way the sun gleams off of water, etc.
Dislikes: Ants, unnecessary attention, theft, snakes, etc.
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History:
Fogstripe was one of a large family. He had four siblings, and the fifth was, unfortunately, stillborn. He and each and every sibling was individually named by his mother. Fogkit’s mother, however, couldn’t produce milk properly. To her distress, he allowed another queen to foster her children. The separation of her children from her ultimately depressed her, though she would visit them every day to give them a loving lick or two. As Fogkit aged, his mother’s visits occurred less and less, until the finally ceased. Her scent wasn’t automatically recognizable anymore, as his foster mother’s was. This led to confusion in Fogkit’s childhood. He didn’t quite understand the concept of parents.
However, as he was apprenticed, Fogpaw left his parental confusion behind and began to focus on his place in the clan. At first, he aspired to one day lead the clan to glory, as most do. But, as he heard word of speeches and border skirmishes and battles, he felt less and less obliged to one day take control of Thunderclan. Otherwise, his apprenticehood was relatively uneventful.
Fogstripe’s warrior life began with despair. His sister obtained a broken leg, which became infected and slowly took her life. His first real experience of loss made him feel like he needed to appreciate things far more than he did, and, thus, he began to give Thunderclan a little more than he wanted to.
IC Example:
From a post by me at a site called Tur.
“The beast wove its way through the stalactites that hung precisely from the roof of the Underdeep. His toes, covered with a natural padding that allowed enough friction for the creature to hang upside-down, splayed, gripping the rough rock of the ceiling. His coloration and texture meshed to near perfection with the surrounding rock. Allied with the advantage of darkness, Solloq would slip past the vision of the untrained eye. He moved surprisingly silent for a creature of such size, but not without careful movement. He hadn't much considered careful-stepping throughout his life, but these precise movements seemed to be unintentional. Instinct is what gave the beast such silent steps, as if he were stalking the most alert of mice, as to not rattle or disrupt any of the overhanging rock.
Little light shown where he hung. By nature, the gargoyle avoided light. Light brought about a great fear in him, though he didn't really bother to know, or really care, why. It was as simple as avoiding light, and his highly sensitive eyes allowed such. Eyes like his were common of beasts of the Underdeep; highly sensitive, and capable of gathering light from the farthest corners of the caves. Along with that, they were highly reflective. As he made his way, his eyes showed bright white. To someone who dared to travel into the depths of the Underdeep and spy the glowing eyes, they could be fooled into thinking them wisps, perhaps fairies, even. They had a mystical quality about them, almost as if they could induce a trance. And that they did, similar to a fish of the depths that would trick prey into believing its glowing lure is something other than imminent doom. Prey would be lured closer, and thus be drawn into Solloq's jaws.
Thick, wretched saliva hung from his hungry jowls. He'd only just eaten yesterday, but the alluring scent of flesh in the caverns rustled his appetite. For only a wise beast knows that, when food is presented, it must be taken advantage of. Any meal may be the last, and a gargoyle does not like to go without a meal. A gurgle rumbled deep within its thick throat, caked with mucus and ever-increasing amounts of saliva. Though any sentient creature would ponder the means of finding this prey, ambushing it properly, and making a kill, Solloq was much more outward. Though he stalked silently, his movements precise and quick, he never did much planning of any sort. Most of his prey are taken by such surprise with his silent approach that they have no time for thinking of retaliation. But never had he been presented with prey along the lines of men.
He kept his place upon the roof, digging his blunt claws deep into the rock as to assume a stronger grip. In the distance, his bright, wide eyes observed the unfamiliar upright creature. His head, twitching to the left a bit, then more, then over to the right, as if pondering what such a thing could be, and thus observing it from many angles. But truthfully, the man intimidated him in no way. He lifted the claws from one paw, and placed it forward. His body was pulled forward slightly, ever decreasing the length between Solloq and the man. Upon moving closer, the wisps of eyes set on another beast, one who stunk of the land above the Underdeep. The size of it didn't sway Solloq in any way. In fact, it was seen as more of a challenge to Solloq's self-proclaimed dominance than anything other. Still, saliva dripped slowly from his lips, and hunger drove him to creep ever-silently closer. His instinct drove him not to challenge the black beast, but to prey upon the upright one.”
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Who Are You?
Faux. I’m 16 and male. I like to draw stuff. And I suck at profiles.
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